Captured in a Moment
by purplepeony
Summary: Cuddy finds House after Kutner's funeral.


Title: Captured in a Moment

Rating: T

Summary: Cuddy finds House after Kutner's funeral.

* * *

Cuddy had suspected she would find him here--once you knew House, there were ways in which he was utterly predictable. But when she walked into the apartment and found him awkwardly seated on the bed in the faint light of late dusk, she was still struck by how tired and worn he looked, by how Kutner's death had further etched his already cragged face, further weighed down his already slumped posture.

If someone had told her a week ago that there was a way in which death could further affect a man who had already seen so much of it, she probably would not have believed it. But, as she rarely allowed herself to admit, House was more fragile than he allowed people to see, more dependent on his life remaining exactly the way it was than he ever wanted anyone to realize. It wasn't an idea she liked to confront, for a multitude of reasons.

Scattered pictures covered the bedspread next to him, and she took a brief glance at them. Various pictures of Kutner, moments captured forever, without accompanying commentary. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but those thousand words were different for each person who looked at them. Everyone read what they wanted to see.

"You missed the funeral," she said, keeping her voice even.

"Oh, was that today?" he snapped back, eyes still focused on the image in his hand.

"I'm sure the police are delighted at the number of people who have tramped across their crime scene," she responded, glancing back at the broken and tattered yellow tape that once blocked the door.

"Their case is closed, they don't care." House shrugged, and picked up another picture.

"Your case still open?"

"Did she die yet?"

"Not that case."

"He killed himself, and nobody knows why." He tossed the two pictures he held back on the pile, and picked up another, one he had already set off to the side. She looked down at it—it was a simple snapshot of Kutner on a summer day, his somber darkness framed against the intense green of leaves and the bright blue of sky. She could understand why House had set it aside, but who knew what was going through his mind the moment that picture was taken? They could only guess, their guesses colored by their own experiences and own desire for answers.

At least he wasn't clinging to his idea that there was some bigger—but solvable—mystery here. Maybe these pictures had at least brought him to that conclusion. But she doubted that they would take him any closer to the answers he desired, to the closure he sought.

"It's late, House. Why don't you head home?"

"I didn't ask you to come. You know where the door is."

She ignored the suggestion and continued, motioning at the mess of photos, "What do you think you're going to find in those now?"

"Answers." He responded, his snide tone dripping from both syllables.

"Or maybe, just more questions. Why did someone who had all that, who had all these people who cared about him and would have helped him, decide to do what he did?"

This time, House didn't respond.

"While I think you're the most likely to find any answers . . . that would only happen if there were answers to find. Probably, there aren't any answers to find, anywhere. Even you can't do the impossible."

He looked up at her, and the twist of naked pain that crossed his face again startled her and brought a sudden realization. "House, what kind of answers are you looking for?"

"Does it matter?"

"You're not Kutner. You've proven, time and again, that this isn't an option you want to consider. You've been there, you've looked into that pit, and you've told it to go fuck itself. You're not going to end up here."

"You sure of that?"

She reached down, grabbed him by the hands, and looked him squarely in the face. "No, I'm not sure of that. But you better know that if you ever do it, I'll eventually find you in whatever afterlife exists and kick your ass."

"So, what I have, in the end, is the promise of a Cuddy ass-kicking in the land of the invisible sky fairy."

"Yes, that."

He shrugged, but some of the darkness that creased his face faded. She hoped he understood all the other things that neither of them would allow her to say, all the other offers disguised in her threat. "It'll do."

"Good. Let's get out of here." She released his hands and turned herself toward the door.

He dropped the photo their grasped hands had now wrinkled onto the top of the pile, and looked down at the mess. She felt a slight twinge of guilt over the scattered photos, but knew that she needed to be more concerned with getting House out of here while he was willing, rather than worrying about whoever would need to straighten those up. There was worse to deal with in this apartment than a mess of photographs.

She took his hand, and helped him lurch back to his feet. He grabbed his cane from where it leaned against the bed, and rested his weight heavily against it.

"Do you want to grab some dinner?" she asked, evaluating him with a quick glance. He was probably acceptable for some casual restaurant. "I'm paying."

"Do I ever turn down a meal someone else is paying for?"

"Nope."

With a theatrical sweep of his free hand, he gestured her out of the door. She left, and he followed. As he paused to firmly shut the door, she glanced back at him. She knew that she didn't always fully understand him, sometimes forgot how broken he was. Underestimated how much need he hid under that sarcastic exterior. She tried to help stabilize what she knew and understood, but she didn't know if that could ever be enough.

But she did know that if he ever reached out to her, even in his obfuscated House way, she would try to do all that she could possibly do.


End file.
